Songbird
by treehilluver23
Summary: E-Girl Rule #25: Never, ever, under any circumstance date a musician.
1. Chapter One

A/N: The characters a bit older and OOC to fit my narrative.

* * *

 **CHAPTER ONE | RILEY**

* * *

 **E-Girl Rule #25:** Never, ever, under any circumstance date a musician.

Emily implemented this rule a couple years ago after Stephanie spent the entire summer intertwined with a base player from some unknown band. She fell down the rabbit hole of late night parties and waiting side stage following there shows like all of the other groupies. He even wrote songs about their wild escapades. One night after she'd gotten into a fight with a groupie, Emily summoned the E-Girls, followed by a very painful and slightly awkward intervention.

"What's the name of this band again?" Tiffany asks from the passenger's seat, staining her lips red in the rearview mirror.

"Solid Ground," Stephanie recites the band's flyer, "I hear they're supposed to be really good. Giselle swears by them because she's friends with one of them."

"I'll be the judge of that," Emily scoffs from behind the wheel. "Giselle has terrible taste. I mean, look at her hair."

"True," Tiffany giggles.

Stephanie chimes in, too, but I keep quiet. I actually really like Giselle. She has an infectious sprit and she's always been nice to me despise my sister, Emily's incessant need to be phony to her. If I had it my way, I would've stayed home in my PJs and caught up on all of the reality shows saved in the DVR. Unfortunately, the E-Girls' rules prevent me from skipping this little outing.

Emily finds a parking space in the back of the lot outside the Lost & Found Music Studios. I honestly didn't expect there to be so many people. This band, Solid Ground, must be really popular.

"Riley, fix your hair. You can't go in with it looking like that." Emily tosses a brush over her seat at me. She doesn't bother to see where she's throwing it or if she hit me. "Let's go girls."

I tail behind Stephanie, hurriedly running a brush through my hair before we make our way inside. The concert venue is on the ground floor, the walls littered with band posters and memorabilia. One of the opening acts, a girl brunette girl in bowler hat, is strumming an upbeat song about letting go of love is just finishing up her set when we find a table in the back. Her voice is amazing and her whole aura is friendly.

"Yawn," Stephanie complains, enticing laughs from both my sister and Tiffany. "I need a drink. Who's coming?"

"Let's go," my sister follows followed by Tiffany. Over her shoulder she says, "Riley, stay and watch our things."

Of course I'm on guard duty. When am I not on guard duty? I watch as they make their way across the room, arms laced, before disappearing in the crowd. On cue, my fingers search the charm bracelet around my wrist to fiddle with its charms. It only happens when I'm nervous, scared, or sad. I'm not sure why I'm doing it now. It sucks that the girls abandoned me, but that's nothing to be nervous, scared, or sad about. It's the norm, and after four years of being an E-Girl, I'm totally used to it. Emily didn't allow me to be an E-Girl until my sophomore—her junior—year of high school. I should've tried to distance myself from them the summer before I started University but I could never defy Emily.

It's been thirty minutes and still no sign of them. I check my phone and nothing. There's a text from my roommate, Michelle, telling me to have fun. I can't help but laugh to myself. This is far from fun. It's more like a disastrous nightmare all rolled up into one. There are times, like this, when I question why Emily insists on me being an E-Girl. I'm barely included unless it's to watch their things or be there designated driver at three in the morning. It wasn't always like this. My sister and I used to be really close until I was chosen over her to be captain at our old dance studio, The Next Step. I don't think she's ever forgiven me for not turning it down like she suggested. Sometimes I wish I'd given up the captaincy, then we'd at least talk to each other.

When does the band go on? I ask myself just as my supposed friends giggle their way back to the table.

"What took you so long," it's impossible for me not to sound annoyed with them. "I've been sitting here alone for almost an hour."

"Calm down, Riley," Emily rolls her bright blue eyes at me.

Steph and Tiff snicker.

"I will not 'calm down,' Em. You left me here."

"Grow up. You don't need me to hold your fucking hand. Why did you even come if you were just going to complain?" my sister snaps, her eyes narrowing. I know that look. It's Emily's Keep-Your-Mouth-Shut-Or-I'll-Make-Your-Life Miserable-Look. A comeback is on the tip of my tongue but I push it back down. Instead, I grab my small cell from the table and storm off. Pushing through the crowd, I don't stop until I see an emergency exit leading to the back of the building.

Once outside, I bask in the cool night's air. This alley smells like smoke and pee but I ignore it. This sucks. I didn't even want to be here tonight. I was practically forced by Emily and she has the audacity to make it seem like I'd been given a choice. As much as I dislike Emily right now, I could never turn my back on her. She's my sister after all and I love her. My mom always said my Achilles' heel is my unwavering loyalty. Emily's the only family I have now, and no matter how bad things get or terrible she treats me; I can't turn my back on her. I'm so pathetic. I just want to go back to my dorm room and eat mint chocolate chip ice cream from the carton.

I head back inside; pulling on the handle but it's locked tight. I pull harder as if that'll somehow make the door pop open. Nothing. I alternate between using my palm and fist to bang on the door.

"That door locks from the inside," an unfamiliar deep voice says from somewhere in the alley. To my right, an average height guy is landing against the grill of a black loading van.

"Oh," is all I can say. "Is there another entrance?"

"The front entrance. The loading dock is only for talent and unless you have guitar stashed on you somewhere, they're not letting you in," he explains. There isn't a lot of light in the alley but even I notice how handsome he is in this light. His eyes are dark and lips full with hair shaven close to his scalp.

"My cell phone has this voice auto tune app. Does that count?"

He smiles. It's kind of a goofy smile, all lips and teeth, but I like it. It gives him character. "How about this? I'll sneak you in with me."

"Really?"

"There's an extra guitar case in the van."

"You're not going to shove me in that thing and drive away are you?" I ask because the thought did cross my mind. I think it's best to be up front with him. "That would really suck if you did."

He laughs this time and I can't help but join in. "Who are you?"

"I'm just crossing my T's and dotting my I's."

"Touché. I promise I won't shove you in the back of my van," he promises, crossing his heart. "I'm James, by the way."

"Riley."


	2. Chapter Two

A/N: _Thank you all for the reviews! I incorporated characters from Lost & Found because it gives me an excuse to write about John and Annabelle._

* * *

 **CHAPTER TWO | JAMES**

* * *

I noticed her the moment she stepped outside. The way she stood there, completely lost in her thoughts, was intriguing to watch. Her facial expressions range from worried to nervous to scared to mad. I'd never seen someone go through so many emotions in such a small amount of time. I feel like a total creep watching her but didn't know if should say anything or keep just quiet. The last thing I wanted to do was scare her. When I did speak, I was surprised she didn't scream. Watching her in the dimly lit alley, I found her attractive but when she moved closer, it was a completely different story. Riley is a combination of cute and breathtakingly beautiful.

"Thanks again for helping me get back in. I really appreciate it," Riley said once we were back inside.

"No problem. You're staying to see the band, right?"

"Yeah, I'm designated driver tonight. What about you? Are you a fan of this Solid Ground band?"

"I kind of have to; I'm the drummer." It's my go to line to impress women but Riley isn't fazed. "Can I find you after our set? Maybe we can hang out."

Riley stepped back and brushed the fly away hair from her face. "James, I really appreciate you helping me but I kind I have a no musicians rule firmly in place."

"Really? You're serious?"

She nodded unapologetic. Musicians, especially drummers, have always gotten a bad rep but nothing like this. The danger of being with a musician was always there in the back of their mind but the possibility of having a song written about them out weighted the bad. It never really bothered me until now. I don't know why but I wanted Riley to like me. I didn't want her to see me as a play boy drummer who treated women like crap. There were a few times when I didn't call some of the groupie I hooked up with after the show and on the road but that was different. They didn't want commitment from me and I never cared to see them again.

"Musicians are the worst especially drummers."

"Ouch," I play it cool, jokingly clutching my heart. "That hurts."

"You'll get over it," she teases. Her smile is playful and almost shy. "Thank you again for helping me but I need to get back to my friends."

"You're welcome. It was my pleasure."

Riley shoos fallen hair away from her face and smiles. She turns to leave but stops herself at the last minute. "Good luck up there tonight. I can't wait to hear you play."

She gives me one last look before rejoining the crowded room. I can't keep my eyes off of her as she maneuvers through the crowd before getting lost in it. I'm not the type to fall for a girl this fast but there's something about Riley that's intriguing. It sucks she has that bogus "no musicians" rule because I'd really like to get to know her better.

* * *

"Where've you been?" Theo asks when I walk into our dressing room. He's lounging back against the raggedy old red couch—Mr. T refuses to get rid of it because he says it's good luck—with his feet propped up on the table. Luke, our lead singer, paced the room with a bottled water in hand. John in the recliner near the door with his girlfriend, Annabelle, in his lap tuning up his guitar.

"I was helping a damsel in distress," I tell him pointedly.

"Really? That doesn't sound like you," Mr. T, our manager, added. He's the one who convinced us to start taking the band more seriously.

Originally, we started playing for fun during high school. It was the easiest way to move up the social ladder, meet girls, and get invited to all of the sick parties as freshman. The band didn't have plans after high school but Mr. T changed all of that. He's an old friend of John's dad—they used to write together back in the day—and heard us practicing in the garage one day. He offered to be our mentor and gave us the opportunity to perfect our skills at the Lost & Found Music Studios. It wasn't until junior year we started to really focus. After proving to him we were serious, Mr. T took on the role as our manager.

He's always busting my balls, but it's a two way street. "You wouldn't know what that's like considering the last sexual encounter you had was with an inflatable woman."

Luke laughed mid gulp, coughing and spitting water everywhere. Some of it even landed in Annabelle's hair. She retaliated by throwing an empty plastic cup at him. Theo and I laughed our asses off openly, while John tried and failed to contain his.

"Dammit, Luke," Annabelle cursed. Any other girl would've been totally disgusted but she's been around us to not even flinch when things like this happened.

"Sorry, Annabelle," Luke continued to laugh.

"Get ready. You idiots are on in fifteen," Mr. T grumbled before leaving the dressing room.

* * *

"How's everybody doing tonight?" Luke asked the crowd. They responded in a wave of cheers and screams of our names. This all might have started out as just us having fun but when I'm up on stage with the band and the crowd is vibing to our songs I'm reminded of how special all of this really is. I love music, I always have. Writing songs, creating melodies, and setting a rhythm is all I've ever wanted to do with music.

During the show, I let myself get lost in the music. The energy of the crowd eggs me on, giving as much as I can in return. We play a new song John and I wrote a couple of weeks and the people love it. Towards the end of our set, I spot Riley. I hadn't been looking for her but when my eyes locked on her I didn't want to look away. She stood off to the side holding a bunch of handbags while her friends—I'm assuming—dance and laugh beside her. Riley looked completely out of place and they didn't nothing to include her but she didn't look like she cared. She swayed from side to side, her hips moving in time with the melody.

At some point during the last chorus, she finally looked up at the stage. Almost immediately her eyes find mine. I met her stare—slowly, carefully. Moment-to-moment. Her soft gaze penetrated mine, and something was starting to happen. Riley unknowingly wedged herself underneath my skin and through my brain. She didn't break out contact until our set ends. Without thinking, I bolted from behind the drums and maneuvered through the swarm of people in pursuit of Riley. I ignore the girls trying to pull me to them and the congratulatory claps on the back until I find her.

"Riley," I catch her just as she's leaving. "The building's not on fire."

"What?" she's genuinely confused and it's adorable.

"You're leaving already?"

She looks back at her friends before turning to me. "I have an early morning."

"We should hang out sometime."

"James," she sighs. I like the sound of my name on her lips. "I already told you—"

"Musicians are the worst people in the world especially drummers and you'd never date them. I got the play-by-play." She rolls her eyes. It's so much fun to see what exactly pushes her buttons. "I'm asking you to spend time with me in a nonsexual, strictly platonic, defiantly not a date in any way shape or form kind of way."

Riley smiles despite herself. "I'll think about it."

I pluck a marker from the shirt pocket of the bouncer at the door and write my name and number on her arm. "Call me when you've made your decision."

"RILEY!" a short blonde in a small red dress screams before she could respond. She's standing with two other girls, hand firmly placed on her hips. "I'M READY TO GO!"

"I'm coming," Riley shouts back to her friend. To me she smiles apologetically. "That's my curtain call. Goodnight, James."

"Goodnight, Riley," I can't help but smile.

"You were amazing, by the way," she calls over her shoulder before falling in line with her friends.


End file.
